The Fool
by Catalina Day
Summary: Excerpt: God wasn’t saving anybody, especially not him. He kept walking, and took another cigarette from his pack. He lit it up, breathed in, and thought that, with any luck, lung cancer would set in soon. Jaycentric, In progress.
1. When All Your Love Is Gone

**A/N:** Well, for some reason I've had this obsession with Jay lately. I don't know how, but he's kind of become my favorite character. I think it's because he's just so fucked up. He doesn't have a specific problem, like cutting or drinking or an eating disorder. He's just normal screwed in the head. As ironic as that sounds, I think there's something to it. Because that's the kind of fucked up most people are, the one we can all, on some level relate to. So, this fic, though I don't know where it's going, is about examining that. Really, an introspective thing on Jay. There may be relationships, there may not be. Fair warning, this story will most likely not be 'ship centric. So no flames, kay?

Consider this chapter an introduction of sorts.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Degrassi: TNG. I have nothing to do with it. No copyright infringement is intended by writing this, it is simply fan fiction written by a fan who adores the show. If you want to sue, all you're gonna get is about eleven dollars and this really neat pen I have that looks like a chili pepper.

**The Fool**

_Chapter One: When All Your Love Is Gone_

Jay stood at the corner of the street, unlit cigarette dangling between his lips. He was watching cars pass by. Nothing better to do, really. And this wasn't the shit part of town, either. This was just two or three blocks away from The Dot. These were upper middle class and middle class sections, leading into an area populated by businesses. Mini vans and other sensible but sleek cars made their way down Degrassi's streets, cruising past him. And he couldn't help but think that if this was the good part of town, no wonder the shit part was so damn shitty.

His own car was sitting outside his house where he'd left it when he'd gone for a walk. Contrary to popular belief (if anybody even cared anymore) Jay was not super glued into the drivers seat. Occasionally he liked to get out and move his legs. He reached into his pocket for his red Zippo lighter, the one Alex had given him for his birthday. That was the year they had first started dating. He held it in his hand for a moment, feeling the weight, then lit up, inhaling what was sure to be the cause of his eventual demise. That was, if somebody didn't murder him before hand. At this point, he wouldn't be shocked.

He made his way down the street slowly, glancing every now and then at the cars and the people in them. People smiling, people laughing. Happy people. How did they get so fucking happy, anyway? He thought back to his house. The empty beer cans and bottles lying around on the carpet. Of course, he wasn't the only kid at Degrassi with an alcoholic parent or two. Except he seemed to be the only one following in their footsteps, and probably getting worse. He laughed at himself in a bitter way. Christ, he had almost gotten J.T. killed by getting him involved with a criminally insane drug dealer.

"What's so funny?"

The voice to the right of him startled him a bit, but he didn't let it show. His cigarette was half ashes, and he'd only taken a couple puffs. He took one more long draw, and flicked it to the ground, crushing it beneath the heel of his boot. He smiled, and when he answered, smoke came out with the reply.

"My pathetic existence. I assume that's what you were thinking." Darcy crossed her arms over her chest, and Jay looked for a moment at the sign behind her. He had already walked all the way to The Dot. She was probably on her way to see Spinner. And then they would sing Jesus songs and cuddle.

"No, actually. It wasn't." She shifted from foot to foot for a moment, and then looked him in the eye. "I've been praying for you, you know."

"Really. And why's that?" He looked through the window and saw Spinner there at the counter. His eyes shifted back toward Darcy as she uncrossed her arms.

"Because it seems like you need some help." Her answer was so goddamned simple. It was infuriating.

"The way _I_ see it, _you're_ the one who needs help. I mean, you _are_ in a cult. Dangerous stuff, Darce. Maybe you should check yourself into a mental hospital, or something. And while you're at it, get your boyfriend's head examined too. I mean, he's with you, right? Something's _gotta_ be wrong."

Darcy rolled her eyes, and turned around, heading toward The Dot. Before she got to the door, Jay's voice could be heard again.

"Hey, and could you not pray for me anymore? It makes the '666' tattooed on my ass burn, and that is _really_ uncomfortable." He watched as she approached Spinner, looking upset. And he thought that she really needed to get a tougher skin… or a fucking clue. God wasn't saving anybody, especially not him. He kept walking, and took another cigarette from his pack. He lit it up, breathed in, and thought that, with any luck, lung cancer would set in soon.

xxxx

By the time he got back to his house it was dark out, and the shabby imitation of a home loomed before him, a menacing shadow. He breathed in, and opened the door. The stench of vomit hit him like a punch to the gut, and he shut the door behind him. The sour smell grew stronger as he made his way to the couch. He flicked the light switch, his face expressionless.

"Dad." The word was spoken with a tired familiarity that belied his experience with this type of situation. Jacob Hogart was sprawled on the couch, vomit trailing on his cheek and dotting his flannel shirt. Jay nudged him with his boot. "Dad, get up." His dad moaned and shifted, turning over. "Goddamnit, dad…" Jay mumbled, more to himself than to his dad. He reached down and sat his dad upright. This earned him a few ill-aimed smacks, most of which landed on his shoulders and chest. But one of them caught him on the cheek. He felt the sting of a scratch, but didn't really care at the moment.

"What… I was… the… Jay?" Jacob's eyes were squinted up at Jay, and he was holding his head in his hands.

"Come on, dad. You need to go to bed." His father was compliant as Jay helped him to stand, and walked him into his bedroom. He helped him into the bed, and when he left, closed the door with a sigh. He hated it. He hated his father. Jacob never hit him; he wasn't a violent drunk. He didn't do _anything_. He just got drunk; sometimes he cried, then he threw up or pissed himself, or both. And then Jay would have to clean it up. He hated his father because he was too pathetic to hate. He set to work cleaning up the mess his father had made, and afterward he opened all the windows in the living room to air it out. That night he practically fell into his bed, and was asleep within minutes.


	2. The Things You Learn At Night

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Degrassi: TNG. I have nothing to do with it. You really shouldn't bother to sue, as I'm currently broke. Honestly, it wouldn't do you any good.

**The Fool**

_Chapter Two: The Things You Learn At Night_

BREEEEP! BREEEEP!

Jay's eyes opened slowly, sluggishly. He went to hit his alarm clock, but the noise persisted. The green blinking numbers told him it was 2:27am. In his search for the source of the noise, he tumbled from the bed and landed on his ass. Hooray for late night phone calls, he thought as he picked up the cordless from under the bed.

"Hello?" Who the fuck calls at two thirty in the morning? None of his acquaintances would care enough to call, and they only had his cell phone number.

"Hi… um, Jay?" Blue eyes opened wider as he heard the whispering voice on the other end. "It's Emma…" Was this 'Annoy the Shit Out of Jay Day', and nobody told him? First Jesus-Junkie Darcy, and now Emma, the Indecisive Wonder.

"Well, Emma, do you realize that it's two thirty in the morning?" And he needed to work tomorrow, too. This so wasn't going to be good. He could feel it in his spine. Or maybe that was from falling out of bed.

"I'm sorry, I thought you'd be up… it's just… can you pick me up?" At the last part, she started crying. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Jay really wanted to say no. No fucking way; get your own goddamned car. But she was crying. He fucking _hated_ it when girls cried. For a moment he took the phone away from his face, covered the mouthpiece, and yelled as quietly as possible. "Goddamnit!"

He put the phone back to his ear. "Yeah, sure. Just… gimme, like ten minutes."

"Thanks…" And he hung up without saying goodbye.

"Shit." He sighed and went around his room, looking for clothes that weren't completely rank.

xxxx

When he arrived at Emma's house, she was waiting outside on the steps. From what he could see, her hair was a bit tangled, and she was in jeans and a pink t-shirt. As she approached the passengers side and got in, he could see the tears still making their way down her cheeks. He didn't look at her as he drove away.

"So, where are we going?" His question was punctuated by a yawn, and Emma sniffled.

"I don't know." She rubbed her hands on her thighs nervously. "I did wake you up, didn't I?" She kept going before he could answer. "I'm sorry, you were the only person I could call…"

Jay turned the radio down, even though it was barely up to begin with. He rolled his window down and lit a cigarette, trying to calm himself down a little.

"So, you gonna tell me why I'm driving you around in the early hours of the morning, or are we gonna sit here and bullshit?" Tired and cranky, he felt like being more blunt than usual. They stopped at a red light, and sat for a moment.

"It's Snake… Mr. Simpson. My mom kicked him out." The tears started again, and Emma tried to stifle them. "He cheated on her. But I didn't want him to leave." And for a minute, Jay saw past the things they'd done. Emma's hair was glowing golden white in the moonlight as she tried to cover her face. He saw a little girl who didn't have a dad, which was all she'd ever wanted. He wanted to say something to comfort her, but he didn't think he knew how. He'd probably only fuck it up, anyway. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but in a few minutes she had stopped crying.

"Let's go to The Ravine." He looked at her, and rolled his eyes a little.

"Why do you wanna go there, little girl?" He revved the engine as he sped into the empty streets, passing the school.

"I'm not a little girl! And, if I recall, you were the one who encouraged me to go there…" As she trailed off, she let her hand slide over the leather seat and rest on his thigh. He tensed. He wasn't going to do this, not again. Not with her. Suddenly he pulled over, and shut the car off. They were in an empty parking lot, save for a few broken down cars and an old drive-in movie screen. He crushed his cigarette in the ash tray.

His hand quickly covered hers. Anger rushed through him as he turned to her. "Why go to The Ravine when we can just do it right here?" The shock in her eyes didn't seem to phase him as he moved her hand closer to his crotch. "Isn't this what you wanted, Em?" Her eyes closed tight, and she started to shake. She didn't move her hand. "Huh? Isn't this what you fucking wanted!" She started shaking her head, tears flying from her eyes, and he threw her hand back at her, sitting back in his seat.

"No!" Her tears were sobs now. "I just wanna go home! Please… take me home…" He watched as tears mixed with saliva that had started to run from the corner of her mouth. Violent sobbing, hands clenched over her heart. He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. The next moment, she had latched onto him. He sighed, and let his arms drift slowly around her.

"I'm driving you home. Where you should have _stayed_." At this she let go, and fell back into her seat. She punched his arm, and he barely winced.

"Fuck you, Jay." Been there, done that. And he started the car again. She wouldn't go to The Ravine, and she'd never come back to him. And that was good, because he'd just fuck with her head, like he did with Alex. Been there, done that, and he'd done enough damage for now.

.  
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**A/N:** I like this chapter, but I don't. I don't know. I'm not sure I got across what I wanted to here. Jay and Emma is a hard angle for me to work, just because I don't want anybody expecting them to be a couple, 'cause that's definitely not where this is going. But that's also a big part of their dynamic, and the tension between them, so it's difficult not to. I guess, in effect, this chapter was another step in making Jay seem more human. And I'm not sure if I took too big of a step or not. Any comments would be much appreciated.


	3. Truly Fucked Up Individual

**A/N:** I left a lot open in this one, I think. Not sure if the end makes any sense, and I might've slipped up on the voice a little. Lots of loose ends. Keep in mind it's 3:10AM and I just finished the last half of this chapter. And both halves were written separately. And if I ramble anymore, I may end up sounding like even more of an idiot than I really am. So here ya go. Enjoy.

* * *

**The Fool**

_Chapter Three: Truly Fucked Up Individual_

After dropping Emma off, Jay had only gotten two hours of sleep. When the alarm went off at 5:00AM, he groaned. And as he was getting ready for work, he contemplated the idea of hitting his head against the wall until he was unconscious. He should not have taken such an early shift.

The drive to the garage was short, and far too quick. It was his uncle's garage, and he'd only ever helped out a little before he got the job. He'd _had_ to after Hatzilakos' expulsion spree. And now he was being paid 7.50 an hour to sit behind a desk like a fucking secretary for half the day. On the up side, in the afternoons he learned more about cars from Uncle Bailey.

It was about four hours into his shift, and he was watching the clock like it was about to jump off the wall and run away if his eyes weren't glued to it. 10:00. 10:01. Lunch was so close, and yet so far away. And he thought if he didn't have a cigarette soon, somebody was gonna be leaving here with one less limb. The tinkling of a bell alerted him to the presence of a customer. He sat up straight, and shifted some papers on the desk. One thing he had learned from this job; employers like it when you look like you're doing something productive. The footsteps of the patron stopped just short of the counter, and he started to speak before he looked up.

"Hey, welcome to Bailey's Garage…" he trailed off as he met Sean Cameron's eyes. Well, at least the chronic acne seemed to have cleared up. Honestly, he didn't know where things stood with the two of them. He didn't even think things _stood_ with them at all. So he kept talking. "What can I do for you today?"

"I, um… I need some parts for my car." He seemed nervous, and Jay almost smiled. At least someone around here had some sense left in their head. He knew how to react to fear; intimidate. It passed the time considerably well.

"And what kind of car would that be, Cameron?" He leaned back in his seat, unconsciously returning to his old habits. He remembered the groove he'd dug for himself next to Sean. It was remarkably comfortable, that particular point in time. But, by the look on Sean's face, it didn't seem like he was in for a trip down Memory Lane.

"It's a '96 Kia." He looked almost ashamed as he said it, fidgeting with the hem of his brown suede coat. It became apparent why as Jay cracked a grin. Mr. Car-Expert was driving a loser cruiser.

"Just… shut up; it's all I could afford. And besides, I don't think you have _any_ reason to feel high and mighty." Jay's smile fell into an exhausted straight line as he saw the anger burning through Sean's eyes. He saw Sean about to open his mouth, and cut him off before he could say anything incriminating.

"Not now, Sean. I'm at work." He rubbed his eyes, for the first time showing how tired he really was. His body seemed to sag in the chair, and a sigh came out, like letting air out of a tire. But before Sean could say anything, Jay was sitting up, and it was all business again. He had forgotten for a second, that he was currently on everybody's permanent shit list. That wouldn't happen again; back to sarcastic jack-ass Jay. That was who he was. He didn't expect anybody to like it, or even tolerate it. But sooner or later, they accepted it.

"Just… tell me what ya need."

xxxx

His day had been hell, pure and simple. Cameron had gotten his parts, one of which needed to be ordered, and had left. Things had hung between them, to be left for another day. And yet, even after the shit-fest that was the beginning of his week, he still had to go shopping. The florescent lights inside the store buzzed in his eyes and ears, and bothered him to no end. He passed the alcohol aisle without a second thought. He wasn't buying that shit tonight, and if he stopped for even a second, he'd cave.

It was a weird mix of skewed morality, concern, and budgetary concerns that had led him to the conclusion that beer was not on the menu. Even though his dad would probably find _some_ way to buy his own, Jay sure as hell wasn't gonna supply it for him. His dad could get as fucked up as he wanted, but he wouldn't have any part in it; not this time. And it wasn't like he couldn't stand to get wasted tonight. After the last few days _he'd_ had, he felt like sinking into his bed for a night and drowning his troubles away.

But just a look at the remnants of last weeks paycheck told him that wasn't about to happen. Food was more important than beer. Any of his former classmates would never believe that Jay could have such a thought. For a second he was almost glad to prove them wrong, even if they couldn't see it. For a goddamn minute, he almost felt righteous.

And then reality came crashing back down on him. He grabbed a loaf of bread and threw it in the cart with the other groceries, and he got in line to pay. It was all very practical, and he somehow felt dirty. Which was a very odd way to feel when shopping. He imagined 'normal' people didn't feel quite this bad when doing something quite this 'normal'.

As he left the store, mentally and physically exhausted, he decided that he was a truly fucked up individual.


End file.
